On The Corner of 51st Street
by The Good Girl
Summary: For the one-shot lover! A bunch of one-shot fics. Each chapter is for a different newsie, and their story of how they fell in love with a girl on the corner and their story. (different girls for each newsie, as a different story for each newsie)
1. Jack's Corner Girl

**Author Note: **Hello hello!! I dunno what possessed me to start this little story but hey, it's all good, right?? RIGHT. Anyways, this is basically a bunch of one-shots for each of my FAVORITE newsies and their love for a girl on the corner. There's different girls for each newsie, and _no_, they are _not_ whores on the corner! Well, one might be, actually, I think it might be this chapter, but I honestly don't know! But basically each girl does a different thing on the corner. I dunno, this idea just came to me, okay!???!?! I hope you'se like it!

**Disclaimer:** It pains me to say that no, I do not own anything. Nothing—dude, I don't even own the clothes on my back!!

So herrrreee's chapter one! Chapter one is going to be...ummm...well you'll find out!!

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I remember the first time I ever laid eyes on her. Her golden hair chopped off short at her chin worn to the side in a small clip, her deep blue eyes glittering and sparkling, her bright smile giving me butterflies—she was so different, so enticing, I couldn't stop staring at her. My infatuation lasted for almost three weeks before I could finally talk to her.

I tried to concentrate on selling my papers that day, but I just couldn't help glancing up every two seconds just to catch a glimpse of her. It was horrible, really, and pathetic, that she had this effect over me—kind of sick, you know? But a nice sickness...an addiction, almost. I managed to squawk out a pathetic headline that managed to get my one buyer, but I was doing incredibly lousy. And that was saying a lot—Jack Kelly, unable to sell papers? Yeah...it was all her fault.

Damn.

I studied her face for a few moments and she looked in great pain—her fingers plucking and strumming away on her violin on the corner of Fifty First Street. She was there, every morning, rain or shine, and she'd play for hours. Beautiful music, music from the heavens, an every damn time she just captured me, I couldn't think, I couldn't breathe, I just watched her.

I never told anyone about my crush on her—my boys would laugh me right out of New York! I could just imagine what Spot would say...

"Jacky-boy's finally goin' soft on a goil—and she don't even know 'is name!"

I tried not to think of the promiscuous Brooklyn Leader as I sold my last pape that day and swallowed my pride. I weaved in and out of a few venders until I was only a few feet away from her. Her violin case was open on the ground, a few coins sparkling out. I fingered the nickel in my pocket and made my way a little closer to her. She stopped playing and glared down at her calloused fingers. She set her violin down and began suckling on her hurt fingers. I decided to talk to her then.

I had never been so nervous in my life! I could have died. I didn't get nervous around girls—it just didn't happen. But it did then. She looked so small and innocent up close—her face was smudged with dirt and her hair was kind of natty, and she looked sallow like she hadn't eaten in very long, with faint circles under her eyes. Her skirt was torn and frayed, and her flannel shirt smudged with dirt and rolled up at the sleeves, ten sizes too big for her. I'd never seen a more beautiful girl.

When I approached her I flicked my nickel into her case and she looked up at me then, and my heart literally stopped. I couldn't breathe. She gave me the most beautiful, shy smile I'd ever seen and I had to steady myself afraid I might faint.

"Thank you," she said softly, smiling at me. I tried to smile, but I just couldn't. Instead, I cleared my throat and stuck my hands in my pockets, keeping them warm from the autumn cold.

"You," my voice came out scratchy and off key much to my dismay. "You play beautifully. Real nice."

She just smiled at me and blushed. "Thanks." Her voice was kind of raspy, like it wasn't used much. I wondered if she had a family.

I nodded and grinned at her a little, regaining some of my confidence. "What's your name goil?"

She looked up at me and smiled and I thought for a moment I might never be able to move again.

"Lyddie."

Lyddie...it was the most beautiful name I'd ever heard. From then one, I was done for.

So it went that I started talking to Lyddie more and more. After four weeks of talking to her, I finally invited her to lunch with me and I couldn't believe it when she obliged. She met the guys—it was kind of awkward at first, but I learned to be myself around her and pretty soon she opened up. She was so sweet, real soft spoken and kind. She always listened and when she talked—it was like music to my ears. I asked her out three months after our friendship started, and I felt like the happiest guy alive. Lyddie was my world. I'd listen to her play all the time and she'd come with me to Medda's or spend the night at the Lodging House.

We've been together for eight months now, and never once had we ever had a real fight. Until last night. It was something stupid, but now Lyddie wasn't talking to me. I was growing worried—she was avoiding me.

I stared at the ceiling after selling my last pape that day. My stomach was churning—I was growing worried. Lyddie hadn't talked to me all day and she hadn't been playing on the corner like usual. I was about to get up and go look for her, but just as I sat up Lyddie walked into the room, her eyes cast down and her hands behind her back.

I was momentarily paralyzed. She never ceased to make me lose my nerve and fall in love all over again with her. When she looked up at me, my heart broke. She looked so afraid, so troubled.

"Lyddie," I breathed, standing up. In two swift steps I wrapped my arms around her and she seemed to break down, sobbing on my shoulder. I sat her down on the bed and frowned. "Lyddie, what's wrong?"

She stopped sobbing and wiped her eyes. She looked up at me but that just made her cry harder. Finally, after several minutes, she stopped crying and swallowed. "I have to tell you something."

I nodded, growing incredibly nervous. I didn't know what to expect. "Okay. What is it?"

She looked at me tearfully and swallowed. "Please don't hate me...oh God it's all me fault! I'se so sorry Jack..."

My heart stopped.

"I'se...I'se...I'se pregnant."

My mind completely blanked. I didn't know what to say! Pregnant? I let go of Lyddie and stood up, not sure what to feel. I was completely numb. _Pregnant?!_

"Are you shoah?" I asked her, my voice flat.

Lyddie nodded sadly, standing up immediately. "Jacky I'se so sorry! I'se understand if you'se wanna leave me—you'se gots responsibility as a leadah and everything—havin' a baby just gonna screw it up! I'se so sorry, please don't be ma—"

"Shhh," I whispered, cradling her in my arms. "It's okay, I'se ain't mad...just...damn, you'se pregnant? I didn't expect that..."

Lyddie watched me carefully. I finally gave her a grin and kissed her sweetly. "Listen doll, you'se mean the woild to me, and I'se nevah leave you'se. Me and you'se is gonna raise this baby full of love, alright? I'se love you Lyddie."

Lyddie began to cry and smile at me. "I'se love you too...I'se just scared Jack."

I nodded and swallowed. I couldn't quite understand—me, a father? It was unreal...but I loved Lyddie so much and it wasn't her fault...having a baby at seventeen is weird, yes, but she meant the world to me and I'd be damned if I deserted her now.

"I'se scared too Lyddie, but we'll make it through, okay? I'se love you."

Lyddie smiled at me and I held her in my arms. Fate's a funny thing, but I guess everything that happens is meant to be.

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That didn't really turn out how I wanted it, but review nevertheless!! I hope you like this!! More newsies and chapters to come!!!!! Leave some love. Love & Strawberries, The Good Girl. XOXOXO.


	2. Race's Corner Girl

**Sorry for the delay. I doubt I still have any reviewers left. Regardless, here's chapter 2, and it's a Race one-shot! Yay. lol, hopefully the rest of these suckers won't take me as long.**

**Disclaimer:** I think we all know I don't own anything.

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Love's a funny thing, you know. It's hard to decipher exactly what love is. There's a fine line between lust and love, but sometimes it's so hard to figure out which is which. I mean, lust is pretty common to an eighteen year old guy who isn't in a relationship and can do as he pleases. But in my case…it's different. I mean sure, I like girls, who doesn't? But I'm tired of the one night stands, tired of the flings, the endless flighty flirting…I want to settle down, you know? I want to fall in love, I want to wake up just because I'll get to see my girl that day, I want to be with someone for real, I want to get butterflies, I want to get all that shit. But love's a funny thing.

Now I'm not saying I want a real serious relationship—I'm only eighteen! I don't want to be pinned down for too long…but I just want one girl. A nice, sweet girl that I can be myself around, hang out with, that will get along with me boys, who I can just go to when I'm broken, something special, something sweet, something loose but still monogamous. But it's so much harder than it sounds—not one of me boys is in a real relationship except for Jack who's been with Lyddie for almost a year, but I mean, she's pregnant! Can you believe that? See, that's exactly what I _don't_ want to happen…sure, Lyddie and Jack are in love, but a baby changes everything. I'm not looking for that kind of stuff, just something sweet…nothing that would keep me tied down forever. The other boys of the Lodging House—they all have their girls, but I don't think its love. They'd probably drop their girls in a second for another pretty face.

And that brings me to another question: What is love? Okay, so it's a bit cliché, but seriously, what is love really? I don't know—love isn't too common around here. Love? The only love I know is the love I have for me boys and they have for me—a brotherly love, where I'd die for them and they'd die for me…hopefully…but that loyal connection, that bond that keeps us together…that's not the love I'm talking about—you know what I'm talking about. True romantic love, over the hills, out of the park, World Series kind of love. And it just doesn't seem to exist.

So anyway…I guess you could call me a cynic, a bitter guy who's just not into the whole love thing. But it's really not true—for God sakes, I'm Italian, we all love everything! But I just feel so lonely…and I don't know why or when it's going to stop.

My hands hurt as I sold my last pape and my eyes were becoming heavy. I really wanted to just go back to the Lodging House and lie down for awhile, before the party at Medda's later tonight. As I was walking down the street, something caught my eye on the corner of Fifty first, and I couldn't help but turn my head. I think my mouth literally hit the ground.

There was a girl, sitting on a wooden stool with an easel set up with a white canvas, and a pallet was in her left arm as she stroked the canvas, painting something I couldn't quite make out. Her dark ruby hair was long and flowing in loose curls, and she had most of it pulled in a low ribbon cascading off her right shoulder, curls framing her creamy white face. Her blue hues were concentrated so hard on her painting, and her bag was set out at her feet. She couldn't have been more than sixteen. Her torn skirt blew in the spring wind and her shirt was ripped and frayed. She had dirty smudges on her otherwise flawless skin and she looked kind of tired and beat. But she was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen in all my eighteen years of existence. I honestly think time stopped at that moment.

I think I had just fallen in love. Of course, I didn't do shit about it. I watched this beauty paint for a few seconds, and then shook my head. I started to turn away and head toward the Lodging House but then something made me stop. I realized that I was a coward. There was a beautiful girl painting on the corner no more than forty feet away and all I could do was walk away. If it was Spot Conlon he would go right up to her and that was that! But me…Race? Sure, I'd had my share of girls—probably more than I should have had. But when it came to girls I really thought were something, I just didn't do anything.

But maybe it was time that I did _something._ Swallowing my pride, I turned around and walked toward the girl, only to turn around again. I just couldn't do it. I walked back to the Lodging House, my head feeling heavier than it should have.

"Come on Race! We'se leavin'! Let's go!"

I rolled my eyes at Jack's booming voice from downstairs and trudged slowly to the lobby. I didn't feel like going to Medda's. My spirits were kind of low, and it just made matters worse when I saw that every one of my friends had a girl by their side. I felt like chopped liver, to say the least. I was about to say I didn't feel good and go back to bed when Jack grabbed my shoulder and pushed me towards the door.

"We'se don' wanna be late! Come on ya slow poke." Jack's grip was firm. I was too lazy to resist.

Medda's was insanely crowded. I sat at a table playing my fifteenth round of poker, smoking my fourth cigar, and finishing up my eighth beer. I was a mess. I wasn't drunk, but I felt smashed. My head was killing. All I wanted to do was sleep.

"Uh…guys I'se fold," I muttered. The boys around the table gaped at me. I never, ever folded. _Never._ But I just wasn't in the mood.

I sauntered off from the table and leaned against a wall in the back of the theater, rubbing my eyes. Someone touched my shoulder and I looked up to find Lyddie looking at me with concerned eyes.

"Are you'se okay Race?" she asked. Her big hues studied me carefully. Lyddie was such a sweetheart. Jack was lucky to have her—someone who was with him for him and not his leadership title. I sighed.

"I'se fine Lyddie, I'se just gonna take off, okay?"

Lyddie nodded and sighed. "Okay…be careful Race." I grinned at her, and nodded. She walked away and I shook my head. I pulled my cap out of my back pocket and put it on my head, heading out of the smoky theater.

The night was cool and calm. It was relaxing. Nothing was going to faze me—nothing! I was free. And let me tell you, newsies hardly ever felt free. Just as I was approaching fifty-first street and not even realizing it, I heard an angry yell. I immediately stopped walking and heard more yelling and then a girl's scream. I started running towards the voices and it led me to the corner of the street. I expected to see a girl being hurt by some punk but what I saw made my mouth drop.

The girl I had seen from earlier—the beautiful painter--had her hands clenched in fists and put protectively in front of her face. A young man, perhaps twenty or so, who was no doubt intoxicated, was swaggering about her and trying to grab, hold of her but the girl had fire in her eyes.

"Get the _hell_ away from me asshole!" The girl shrieked. The man laughed bitterly and attempted to grab her again but the girl was obviously much faster and being sober probably helped. In a blink of an eye, the girl had kicked out her right leg and the man squarely in the one area a man dreads to be hit—I don't think I need to elaborate here. The man fell to his knees in pain. The girl took advantage of this and grabbed her painting she had been working on that morning and hit the man directly over the head with all the force she could muster. The man collapsed and the girl stood there for a few seconds, kind of gaping at what she had just done.

Then she burst into tears.

My muscles decided to start working at that moment and I ran over to the girl, completely forgetting that I had fallen for her beauty earlier. "Jesus miss, you'se okay?" I asked. The girl was sobbing hysterically and looked up at me with her tear streaked face.Tears weremeshed in with snotflowing from her nose, and a clear trail of saliva wasdribblingdown her chin. She was beautiful.My legs would have given out at that moment if I hadn't been afraid of falling on the man lying crumpled next to me.

Her sobs looked painful—she was positively wailing. Her shoulders were shaking and she began to hiccup. "That—that—damn bastard! He…he made me…ruin my…my painting! And…and now I have…nothing…to sell!" She continued to hiccup and wiped at her eyes vigorously. She stopped crying and looked me in the eyes. I thought I might die.

"I hate men."

She said it so simply, so blunt that I had to crack a grin. She stepped on the man, not bothering to watch where she stepped, and gathered her split painting. "Fucking hate them! They are pigs. Did you know that? Men are pigs! Pigs, pigs, pigs."

I just stood there awkwardly, quite aware that I myself was male. I put my hands in my pockets and just stood there dumbly watching her. She finally stopped and sighed. "I guess you don't understand."

I shrugged. "I'se would like ta tell ya that we aren't all like that, but most men are."

The girl nodded sadly and studied me.

"Let me help ya clean up—I'll walk ya home—in case some other punk feels like botherin' you tonight," I offered lamely.

The girl grinned and sighed. "I'm sorry I called all men pigs. They just annoy me." I grinned at her. "Okay they infuriate me. Most of them, anyway. What's your name?"

My heart stopped beating and I immediately lost what little cool I had in my body. "Race."

She smiled. "My name's Kate. And I'd like it very much if you walked me home Race."

I smiled at her and nodded. "Okay…Kate."

She grinned and I felt my heart soar. I was going to walk her home! The beautiful girl from that morning! Maybe my luck with women wasn't so bad after all.

So it went that I walked Kate home. I found out that she was sixteen and lived just a few streets over. Her family had been struggling with money since her father was laid off and she was forced to drop out of school and sell paintings on the corner—she was planning to major in art. She was charming, to say the least. I listened to her talk and found myself falling in…like?...faster and faster.

When we reached the door to her home, I faced her and stuck my hands in my pockets.

"Thanks for walking me home Race." She gave me a smile. "You are one of the rare nice men out there. I appreciate your kindness."

I just smiled, too dazed to do anything else.

"So I'll see ya around," Kate said. "Don't be shy—come say hi tomorrow. I'll be out on the corner painting again." I broke out of my daze and grinned.

"Okay, see ya 'round Kate." She grinned and entered her home, giving me one last smile before she shut the door.

So my night hadn't been a total waste. I had talked to that girl from the morning—and so what, we'd only talked for a few minutes. It was worth it to me. And besides...there was always tomorrow...

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**I didn't mean for it to end so abrupt, but I didn't really feel like making the end all sappy and whanot. I wanna thank my 3 loooovely reviewers from last chapter!!! THANK YOU!!!!! **ducks-go-quack-00, elvenrarehunter, StormShadow21. **Thank so much. :) Anyways, I hope whoever read this liked this chapter. With all that said, L&S TGG**


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